Fall Into Him
by Jaden Anderson
Summary: "I conjure a memory of him, chuckling under his breath, struggling against it as he must always be so stoic but I had broken through that strong exterior before, my Duncan. That is the memory I will take with me." One-shot with Duncan and a new AU origin.


Title: Fall Into Him

Characters: Duncan and Juniper

Summary: "I conjure a memory of him, chuckling under his breath, struggling against it as he must always be so stoic but I had broken through the exterior once, my Duncan. That is the memory I will take with me." One-shot with Duncan and a new AU origin.

A/N: I wanted to take a little break from Reawakening to write a quick one-shot surrounding Duncan. No one ever writes about him it seems, and I think he's entitled to a little happiness as well :) As stated in the summary, this is an AU and I've decided to use an entirely original Warden origin. And why not right? Duncan travelled everywhere looking for people :) This is Juniper's story.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Fall Into Him<strong>_

Alistair said 'swooping was bad'. I wonder if he realizes just how much so. It's hard to ignore the sensation of the ground opening beneath me. I'm falling, my stomach lurching into my throat even as my heart suddenly stops beating. Of course it starts up again, I'm not the one sprawled across the tinted grass. But as it does, my pulse roars through my ears and I can't hear what Alistair is saying. Part of me wants to comfort him, I know this is difficult for him as well, but there's nothing left within me to offer. Not while staring down at him, those once warm brown eyes now clouded over and staring ahead at where the king lies mangled in his cleaved armor.

I reach down, my fingers grazing against him as I close his eyes. I do not want to see him like this, do not wish to feel how cold and firm his skin has become. I force a memory of him chuckling under his breath, struggling against it as he must always be so stoic, but I had broken through the exterior more than once. That is the memory I will take with me; skin flushed, bright eyed, and _alive_.

His daggers lay abandoned next to his fingers and I sweep them up with little thought. It won't matter to him what happens to these weapons anymore. Perhaps he would have liked Alistair or I to have them.

"Come on," I murmur, my voice low even though I struggle to hide the pain.

Alistair barely acknowledges my movements carrying me away from both of them. I call back to him once more and he swivels towards me, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. When I nod, he does in return, and follows. Remember what he _was_, not what remains.

* * *

><p>Such a crowd! Something big must have been going down. At the cheers and jeers of the humans surrounding me, I delve my fingers between them and part them like a sea. I hear the distinct sound of metal meeting metal but it isn't until I rise up on my tiptoes that I see them. Soldiers, wrapped in steel and armed in blades the length of my body, battling one another. One would assume this to be a cause for alarm, but the humans simply keep cheering. A competition! How marvellous!<p>

My slippered feet carry me silently to the front of the crowd. How I always adored competitions! More than once I'd wished to enter such, but with little coin to buy armor, I was stuck always observing. But oh, how they move with such grace even when weighed down with heavy folds of armor. How deftly they swing such great weapons. I prefer ones a little more my size; daggers. The points are just as dangerous and much easier for me to handle. And when you live on the streets, it is always good to be able to hide them somewhere inconspicuous. The battle ends as quickly as it began, with one of the soldiers dropping to a knee, his head hung forward in shame, bested by his opponent. I can't see who is holding this event and at some unseen signal, the defeated slumps away and someone new takes his spot. I watch a few more rounds when reality finally returns. Crowds were the best venue to yield a little profit. I slide subtly through the crowds, my little dagger making quick work of those thin ties these foolish humans use to latch their purses to their sides. My gaze latches onto a substantially sized one in the front of the crowd. It's a risk, he's in the open, but the swell of that purse would likely feed me for a month. My teeth tear down onto my lower lip but I'm already moving towards the target before I can convince myself otherwise.

This one will require a touch more skill. Luckily, the crowd is clamoring behind him. It takes only the slightest nudge of the fellow next to me. When he stumbles, he swings his arm around as he struggles to find his footing. In doing so, he careens into the person who was standing much to close next to him. I'd played a game once, I couldn't remember the name, but we'd lined up multiple tiles and knocked over one while watching the rest fall in their wake. It was much like this and I almost couldn't hold back my snicker as these people continue to topple into one another. Finally they knock into the wealthy soldier at the front and when he stumbles, thankfully with his back to me, my hand swipes out, the blade cutting through the strings with little effort. Knowing not to waste time, I vanish into the shadows of the crowd, artfully making my escape. What it was that made me turn back I have no idea, but just as I am about to break free, I pause and turn. For some reason my eyes land on him. I expected to find him still studying the soldier's movements, instead his gaze is sweeping over the crowd. When they meet mine, I'm pinned to the spot and robbed of breath. His hand goes to his side even as he begins wading through the crowd, his steps hurried as he heads my way. He _knows_.

A small squeak falls from my lips and I'm suddenly running. I hear a shout from a deep voice, likely him. Ya right, like I'm going to answer! The guards were already chomping at the bit to catch me.

I take as many turns as possible, hoping to lose him in the streets. I've lived on the streets my entire life, they are my playground. Very few know them as I do. It doesn't seem to take long before his footsteps fall into silence. One of the joys of armor, I can outrun most guards. Turn after turn after turn, I'm almost positive I've lost him. I even double back more than once in hopes of confusing him if he manages to find a trail.

When I take to the roads again, I head directly for an old warehouse. These coins will add greatly to my meager funds. I turn the final corner, the warehouse in sight when a lightly gloved hand curves over my throat and slams me into a nearby wall. The shock is more than a little jarring and the purse immediately slips from my hand and drops to the ground, coin spilling out over the cobbled road.

The man is much more intimidating up close, not like that's entirely a… bad thing. Fiery brown eyes stare down at me, his lips pressed down into a firm line. Oh Maker, but he knew how to stare. My legs were trembling so badly it was only the press of his hand under my throat that kept me upright. The dagger I always kept in my sleeve slides free with only the slightest encouragement from me. My fingers wrap around the hilt and the next thing I know, my hand is held against _his _neck, my blade pressed tightly against his skin. It will take only the smallest movement and he'll be slit from ear to throat. I expected to see his anger darken into rage, but instead his lips climb into the smallest smile. I never liked hurting others, but I had to what was necessary to survive.

Time passes slowly as he inspects me. Perhaps he is waiting for me to do it, slice into him, and I press the blade a little tighter, hoping to drive the point home that I will use it. It isn't until his skin splits and a tiny trickle of blood forms that he releases me. It's so sudden I collapse back against the wall, clutching at my throat while choking for air.

"Tell me your name," he orders in this sinfully liquid voice.

My chin rises and it is my turn to regard him. I'd never seen a human with such a beard; it reminds me of the dwarves that came to sell their wares. His just as thick hair was drawn back loosely, swept off his face. He is darker than many of the Fereldans I've seen and it's certainly an attractive quality, not that I would ever admit such a thing. He is clearly older than me, greatly, but all that matters are the two glowing daggers he now spins deftly in his hands. Oh Maker, I only had the one and it was certainly not as large as his.

He repeats the question as he takes to pacing before me, those ever watchful eyes not once breaking away from mine.

"Juniper," I wheeze a tad forcefully. It's a little difficult to get my voice out past my burning throat.

"Your real name," he says, shocking me further. Not many would see past that.

"Juniper will suffice," I grumble. Like I'm going to tell someone who just tried to choke me my real name. Humans these days.

"As you wish," he waves it away, still stalking before me like a caged animal. "It seems we have two options here Juniper." Oh dear, I rather like the way he says my name with that subtle accent of his. "I call over the guard and they arrest you..." Well I certainly didn't like that option at all and was already plotting my way out of this, my fingers tightening around my dagger, when his voice continues. "Or we settle this between us."

I am about to bolt when those words ensnare my feet and hold me still. "What?"

"My name is Duncan," he informs me, though I did not ask. "And I am a Grey Warden."

Oh Maker, may lightning strike me down now before my stupidity does. A Grey Warden? I stole from a Grey Warden? He seems to find my responding groan amusing, the corner of his lips tugging up into an almost smile. It's closer to a sneer than anything.

"Indeed," he murmurs. "Now, I came here looking for Grey Warden recruits."

The desire to scratch my head is quite strong. Why is he telling me all this?

"And I think I just found her."

My jaw goes slack. I must have heard him wrong, surely. Me, a Grey Warden recruit? It's likely some joke. What would he want with an elf and thief? The words that fall from my lips are incomprehensible. But I'm sure he understands the general theme.

He begins to pace again, still spinning those blighted blades, as though he needs to intimidate me further. I get it, you're the big bad, thank you. "Grey Wardens are not always honorable soldiers, princes, or guards. We recruit from all backgrounds. And someone as light footed as you, as quick to react, and with... deft fingers will certainly be of use to us."

"Light footed?" I laugh. "You caught me in under five minutes!"

There, that blighted tug of a smile again. "You are the first to successfully part me from my purse in a very long time. And while it may have only taken me five minutes to find you, that's five minutes longer than any other."

My brows drop low over my eyes. This one doesn't think too highly of himself at all, no...

"As well, very few would succeed at drawing a blade on me and living to tell the story the next day."

I wave that comment away with a quirky grin. "Ah, you were just overpowered by my dazzling good looks."

He falters, his face going blank as he turns towards me once more.

"It... was a joke?" I murmur. "You know... something people laugh at?" I force out a fake chuckle, showing him how it is done. "Like… never ask a dwarf to pick up a bill, they are always a little short." I snort with laughter, my hand slapping at my thigh as I shake my head. That joke always cracked me up.

But… apparently I am the only one. I swallow my chortle and blank my face of all emotion, mimicking his stoic stance.

"Indeed," he murmurs. "What is your answer?"

"For what?" I tease, tossing him a saucy wink. What can I say? When I see a man so statuesque, all I can do is prod until I get some sort of reaction.

His eyes flutter shut and I hear him mutter a prayer to the Maker as his fingers rise to pinch his brow.

"Geez, time to grow a sense of humor. Well, let me think," I say in all seriousness, "if my choices are be fed to the guards for lunch, or become a Grey Warden, I wonder which path I'll take."

He remains silent, still watching.

A sigh explodes past my lips. "Maker's breath, are all Grey Wardens as humorless as the tranquil? _Yes_, I'll join the Grey Wardens."

-O-O-O-

We've been on the road for two days now and all I've learned of this man is that he is utterly too silent. Of course, that might have had something to do with the nonstop flapping of _my_ lips, but Maker, I'n not good with silence. I point out the tiniest little things as we pass wandering merchants or small little hamlets. Of course, I can't quite keep it to that. I point out the wildlife, the trees, we even come across some unknown plant that I became engrossed in with its unique purplish berries; round and plump. They look absolutely delicious. At his insistence, I brave it, praying to the Maker and all He stands for that it isn't poisonous. In all fairness, I probably deserve it. And I'm sure he doesn't find it attractive at all when I spit out the offensive berry a second later and scrape at my tongue with my nails.

After complaining quite loudly about how bitter and disgusting it was, and Maker, why did he make me eat such a thing, I catch another little smirk.

"It's a Juniper berry," he informs me, a sly glance lingering my way when I stumble to a stop, my gaze following his back as he presses onwards towards the highway. Like I can't take a hint. Fine, Mr. Stoic, if that's how you want to play it…

-O-O-O-

Aha! A laugh! Dear Maker, this indeed calls for celebration! And all it took was an inappropriately timed joke at the behest of dwarves yet again. I'm sorry, they're the only jokes I know. I waited for the poor man's mouth to be full of food when I let it slip: _three elves walk into a bar, the dwarf doesn't_. I hadn't meant for him to choke on his dinner, as hideously disgusting as this stew was. I lived on the streets and I could fashion something more akin to food than this. Either way, I do feel slightly ashamed when his stew dribbles down his chin and in a most unattractive way. But to hear him laugh was worth it. I can't believe how deep it is and the rippling cadence does a funny thing to my chest; my heart sputters. Intriguing. I think that reaction calls for more experimentation. And besides, I did owe him that much.

"You should do that more often," I offer in a somewhat quiet voice.

He stills, those dark eyes sliding towards me. There it is again, that little flop in my chest, curious. I don't mean for my gaze to drop to those darkly tinged lips framed by that monstrosity he calls a beard, but it does. An eternity seems to pass before the startling sound of his voice makes me jump in my own skin. At his suggestion, I practically dive into my tent, zipping it up so fast I'm sure I nearly lost a leg in the rush.

"Goodnight… Juniper," I hear him murmur beyond my tent. Is it me, or did his voice soften? Oh Maker…

-O-O-O-

Denerim. Or so I'm told. I'm not exactly the most worldly of elves. Sure, I've heard talk of the city - after all, it is the capital of Ferelden… right? - but I had no idea where it was on a map. It's… nice enough I suppose, really the same as any other Ferelden city I'd been to. Not that there were many. Duncan mentions that we need to stop and stock up on supplies.

"Oi, knife ears," a deep voice grumbles next to me and I'm talking _right_ next to me, like bent over, snarling in my face. It's a slight more startling than I would like and I find myself backing away. Ah, _knife ears_. One of the endearments I simply _loved_. Humans and their wily, clever ways… "What's a nasty little thing like you doing running 'bout out here? Maybe someone needs to take you home and teach you your place, like the pretty little pet you are."

It's not the first time I'd been met with hostile humans and I know it won't be the last. I'm already reaching for my blade, preparing myself for when this goes bad. And believe me, it _always_ goes bad.

There's two ways I can handle this: play the bashful elf that is so sorry for straying away from her master (ya, right). Or take my pointy little knife and carve some elvhen words into his forehead. Oh, yes, I rather like that. Granted, I didn't know many. I wasn't raised by the Dalish and they are the remaining ones that hold to our tradition, but I learned a few. Mostly curses and uncouth language one would expect to hear from a young lady.

I can smell his rotten breath, my stomach curling as I try to back away, but he matches me step for step.

"Is there a problem here?" I hear his voice and strangely the moment it washes over me, my shoulders loosen and I feel a swell of strength. Duncan is distraction enough and when the offensive man turns his attention towards him, my hand swings up. I was never one to waste a good opportunity. Of course, its revolting what my hand lies against, the blade resting against the inseam of his trousers. Both of their eyes widen, but it's the one standing before me with my blade pressed to his… well, I'm sure you know what area I'm referring to, that starts shaking, his gaze darting in every which direction as though hoping some guard takes notice of these happenings.

"No problem Duncan," I hiss dangerously. "This _shem_ just thought he'd like a quick romp with an elf. I figure, can't do that if he's missing the vital parts. What do you think?"

All color drains from the man's face. "Sorry, sorry," he pants, practically dancing in the spot, on his tiptoes to keep his nether regions away from my sharpened blade.

Duncan is silent and for a moment I wonder if he's waiting on me to castrate the man. But when I flash a quick look to him, there's a rage so severe darkening his face that it startles me. Needless to say, I'm more than shocked when my hand falls away from the man and I jerk my head quickly, signaling for him to run.

How quickly it becomes awkward between us. I'm not sure what I've done to upset him, but the furious light to his eyes has me a little more scared that I'd like to admit.

"Let's go," he growls under his breath. "I have what we need."

This time when we begin walking, I'm as quiet as a mouse, afraid of whatever storm is brewing under that manly exterior.

-O-O-O-

More than once I tried to find a way to apologize, though I have no idea what exactly I am apologizing for. A few things go round in my mind. Perhaps he didn't like me making a spectacle of myself, a future Grey Warden. Or, and this one I really didn't like, there's the possibility that he didn't like me holding a knife to a human's tender area, as I'd heard it called in the past. The last does not sit well with me. Duncan did not seem like all the other humans I'd come in contact with. But could I have judged him wrong? It wouldn't be the first time, I realize as I slump forward on my log, my head pressed into the palms of my hands. The question is why this bothers me so much? What did it matter to me if I upset a human?

"Juniper…" I hear him sigh.

I turn my head, my cheek now cupped within my palms and open my eyes to find him pacing again. A personal past time of his it seems. Here it comes, just like every other _shem_ I've known. The expectations of me. _Behave like a good little elf. Do nothing to attract attention to yourself. You are to be seen but not heard._ And most importantly: _do as you are told elf._ I'd heard them all before. There was a reason I lived on the streets and not as some serf or slave.

"Tell me why you are upset."

_Me_? "Why are _you_ upset?" I demand.

Those eyes darken even more - if that's even possible - and he rears away from me, turning towards the fire and giving me his back. "Should I not be?" is all he asks.

So, it has come to this then. I rise from the log and force myself to take two steps towards him. I am within near touching distance, but I need to be. I need to make my stance clear. I will not be some servant.

"Maybe it's time we got a few things straight," I begin with a soft voice, hoping it remains so throughout the entire conversation.

He slants a glance back over his shoulder at me, his brows raised in question. But at least some of the anger has dimmed.

"I'm an elf," I start by stating the obvious… _good job!_

"I am aware of that."

With a sigh, I try again. "You asked me to be a Grey Warden. You said you saw something in me that could be useful. But there's a reason I lived on the streets, stealing to survive. I will _not_ be someone's servant or slave. I was free before you came into my life and if you expect that of me, I can and will leave."

His lips part in shock. Yes, the elf was standing up for herself. I'd cowered much too much in my life. I was done with it.

"Juniper," he says my name again, this time it comes out more of a startled laugh. I'd never heard such a thing from him. It was always that deep baritone voice, emotionless. "What in the Maker's name are you thinking in that head of yours?"

Erm… what?

"You think I was upset because you defended yourself? Against that… plebeian of a human?"

Oh, good word usage. My lips might have actually cracked a smile at the one. "Uh… yes?"

This time his laugh is real and its startling how loud it is. It even backs me up a step, my eyes wide as I watch him rock with mirth. Huh, if I'd known all it would take to make this man laugh was threaten to carve up some human's privates, I would have done it sooner.

"Foolish girl," he ends with a chuckle.

"Care to tell me then why you _were_ so upset?"

He turns completely towards me and takes the final step until we are a mere inches from one another. Funny how everything went dark and blurry all at once. Who turned off the fire? And where did the stars go? All I see are muddy brown eyes staring down at me. _Remember to breath, right…_

"I'd like to ask you something," he murmurs, so close that I feel the hot press of his breath on my skin. Now, _he_ does not smell rotten. Not at all.

"I-I'm all ears," I chuckle, though not as loudly as I should at a perfectly timed joke such as that. Even his lips crack a smile. Happy day.

"What's your real name?"

It takes a moment for my brain to kick start that question. My real name? Why can't I think of it? Perhaps because of how close he is standing? Remember that weird flip of my heart? Well, it's racing so fast right now I bet it could have burst from my chest.

"Juniper?" he whispers again, this time as his fingers graze against my cheek, sliding my hair away from my face. Oh… oh… _that's _why he was mad. Maker, I almost botched this one badly. "I'd really like to know-"

"Ryiah," the word falls from my lips into his the moment he claims my mouth. When my knees give out and I fall into him, he's there to catch me, my Grey Warden in silver armor.

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><p>Remember him as he <em>was,<em> not what remains.


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